Sweet Sacrifice
by XxSweet-NightmarexX
Summary: AU; A young girl is walking home one night when she is attacked. What happens when Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett find her and save her from the brink of death? Don't forget to review! SweeneyxOC. I decided I like my T rating, so rating NOT subject to change.
1. Prologue: Darkness

**Author's Note: Yes, I know there are a lot of these kinds of fics already, but bear with me. This has been in my head for a while, and I needed to write it. What if Sweeney Todd found a girl that was a victim of a crime similar to what happened to his Lucy? Kind of testing the waters of being realistically OOC. Not sure if I can do it, but I'll try. If it gets bad, tell me to stop writing.**

Prologue

It was dark. I weaved along the sidewalk on my way home. I had been out with some of my friends, and though it wasn't ladylike, I have to admit I had been drinking, and was more than a little tipsy. Now and then I'd stumble as my foot slipped off the curb. Now and then I'd giggle at some remembered joke. I may have drunk more than I intended. Perhaps the innocent drinks had been spiked with something a little less than innocent. I giggled again as I stumbled against a wall along the sidewalk, and continued on my way home. I was so drunk, I wasn't even sure where I was going. Maybe I should have stayed a little longer, until I had sobered up.

The night was cool, and windy, the breeze blowing my dark black hair around my face. I'm sure it wasn't helping my unsteady appearance as I wobbled around. I really should have stayed until I was sober, or better yet, not have drunk at all.

"Hey miss, need some help?" a male voice called. A shiver ran up my spine. I never stopped to talk to anyone at night.

"No, I'm fi-" my reply broke off in a yelp as a rough hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me into an alley to the right of the sidewalk I was weaving on. I stumbled as I was slammed against one of the walls. I couldn't focus on anything, I was too drunk and the night too dark, but I knew enough to be scared.

"I think you do," whoever-it-was growled, pinning my hands on either side of my head, so it was hard to move. I could feel my heart pounding viciously in my chest.

"Let me go!" I begged, pulling furiously at my arms, trying to pull my wrists free so I could fight back. But before I could get myself free, my attacker pressed his lips against mine. My eyes flew wide, and I fought harder. NO! This wasn't happening to me! I used the only defense I knew, a standard knee-to-groin, and when he doubled over in pain, I tried to run for it. But in my intoxicated state, I didn't get far. I stumbled over the hem of my dress and fell, breaking my fall with my hands. I heard footsteps behind me, and knew I was nowhere near out of danger.

As I tried to push myself up, something hit me with force on the back of my head, and a split second later, my head met stone, pain exploding in my skull. I was stunned for a moment, but then tried to get up again, only to get the same results. After the third time it was just instinct telling me to get up, and I lost count of how many times I was kicked in the head. All I knew was there was blood trickling down my nose, my face, and dripping from my forehead onto the ground beneath me. Finally, I didn't try to push myself up again.

There was breath at my throat, then lips brushing against it. I was so out of it, I could hardly see anything. I was flipped onto my back. Then whoever-it-was's lips met mine again, prying my lips open to slip his tongue in. I felt like I was going to throw up. I knew I was going to pass out; my head hurt so badly! I squirmed, trying to free myself again, and a fist met my jaw, causing my head to jerk back and hit the stone under me. Blackness was covering my vision.

I was flipped over again, and I felt his hands on my back, struggling with the lacings on my corset dress. _No! _I struggled again, very weakly, a pathetic twitch of my hands and a squirm. Never the less, I knew something bad was going to happen when I heard him walking away from me, and then back. I couldn't hold in a shriek of pain as something hard and blunt smashed into my head. Darkness swallowed me as I fell into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 1: Sounds

**Chapter 1**

Where was I? What was going on? I couldn't remember quite what was happening…then I remembered. I went out with some friends the night before. I got drunk. I was attacked on my way home. My stomach churned uneasily.

I tried to move, but I was too exhausted. I wasn't even fully conscious. I could hear my surroundings though. I could hear birds chirping, faint chatter from the street I had no doubt been walking down the night before, the loud clatter of horse hooves now and then.

It was too much.

I had a massive migraine, probably from the vicious beating my head had received the night before. I didn't wrench my eyes open because I was too exhausted for one, didn't want to face the reality of what happened for two, and for three, I didn't want it to be light out. I knew that when you had a migraine, you were sensitive to light. I wasn't going to make my head hurt worse than it already did. Then, I heard voices, more distinct than the mind numbing chattering of the street.

"Oy, Mr. T, wot's that? Down there, in th' alley?" I could vaguely tell it was a woman speaking through the pounding of my head. There were footsteps, one set seeming hurried, and the other slow but long. Amazing what you hear when you don't have your eyes open. There was a small gasp.

"Wot d'ya think's happened to 'er?" now that she talked some more, I could tell that the woman had a heavy broken English accent. The proximity and pitch made my head ache more fiercely.

"Is she still alive?" a quiet male voice, detached, cold, yet somehow still sounding a bit concerned… Pondering this made my head hurt furiously. I felt two thin fingers prod at my throat to the left of my face, just under my jawbone. I could feel my own weak pulse against the worried person's hand.

"Yeah, she is, but she seems awful weak, Mr. T, and she looks somethin' dreadful. I mean lookit all that blood!" the woman sounded more concerned than the man, but he was the first to think of looking for what had to have been obvious.

"Check her dress," he growled. "See if it looks like someone other than herself or someone that knows how did the lacing." I felt the same hands that had checked for my pulse pull me onto my side briefly, checking the lacings on the back of my dress no doubt.

"Sloppy, tangled 'ere and there," the woman told her companion, lowering me onto my back. "Maybe it's jus' me Mr. Todd, but I says someone got this girl while she was walkin' home, poor dear." The slower pair of footsteps approached me, and I could tell he bent down to peer at me more closely. I felt a rougher hand than the ones that took my pulse move my hair out of my face.

"Wot's in your 'ead Mr. T?" the woman asked. Apparently, the man named Mr. Todd was in deep thought. "Listen, I know this is awful similar to wot 'appened to your wife, but wot're we gonna do 'bout it?"

"We can make sure she's okay before just leaving her," the man replied. "What if the vermin comes back for her? We're not leaving her here." I felt him slip his arms under me to lift me up, apparently to take me somewhere to heal. My body automatically curled against his chest because of the way I was being held, my head drooping onto my chest. My right ear, pressed against him, could hear his breathing.

"Wotever you say, love. We'll take 'er back and clean 'er up, and when she wakes up we'll see 'ow she is," even in my half conscious state, I could hear the affection in the woman's voice. She would do anything he told her to, I was sure. Not to mention the motherly tone I'd heard when she first found me.

Confident I was safe with these two strangers, I let myself drift…

Even letting myself rest, I was still half conscious, maybe because I was still scared of something more happening to me if I were to let my guard down. I heard a door open. It sounded like a shop door, but I couldn't concentrate past the pounding in my head it brought on. We went through another, quieter door, into another room, I assumed. A side room or something.

"Put 'er there," I assumed she pointed, because the one holding me laid me down on something soft. I felt smaller fingers, the woman probably, poking 'round the wound in my head. It caused my head to give another nauseating throb.

"Needs t'be cleaned," she muttered. There was the sound of movement, and then there was something slightly wet on my head. But it made my pounding head reach a point where I couldn't just lay there anymore. My eyes cracked open slightly, but I had problems focusing on anything at all. But I couldn't keep them open; I was too tired. My head drooped to the side, and I let myself fall, once more, into deep unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 2: Names

**Thank you all for your lovely reviews! They make me feel all warm and fuzzy. And because I forgot to put it before, I don't own anything Sweeney. I only own my character and my plot. Oh, and our dear character gets a name this chapter! But there's also a plot twist this chapter! (hehehe!)**

**Chapter 2**

When I woke again, my head wasn't pounding nearly as hard as it had been. I could actually think through the pain. But I did not want to think about anything. The only place my thoughts would go was the attack, and I didn't want to think about that. My head wasn't the only part of me in pain; my whole body ached with smaller pains, but pains that were there nonetheless. I didn't want to think of what might have happened to put me in that much pain. So I focused on the only other thing I could remember; the two people that had rescued me from where I was left to die. Maybe they where somewhere nearby. I pushed myself into a sitting position, only for my head to spin sickeningly. I let out a low moan, hands holding my head in pain. I felt someone gently push me back down on whatever-I-was-laying-on.

"Y'shouldn' be strainin' yourself, dear, took quite a beatin' you did," a snippety but still somewhat kind voice said. There was something else there too, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Something brewing behind the supposed kindness. But there was definitely a note of motherly affection there.

"Wh-what happened?" I asked shakily, relaxing obediently. It wasn't like it was in my power to do anything else, other than lie there that is.

"Well, I dunno what 'appened to you, but me an' Mr. Todd was jus' walkin' along when we spot you lyin' in some alley. So we took ya back 'ere an' I cleaned ya up and fixed up that bump on yer 'ead-" I thought that 'bump' was an understatement. "-but I dunno the rest." I could tell she was just _dying _to hear how I almost died. A sudden movement not far away made me jump.

"Mrs. Lovett, slow down. I don't think she's in a very talkative mood," I recognized the voice of the other of my rescuers, the man that had carried me to…wherever I was. His voice was quiet, and not painful to my aching head. It was low pitched, but sounded like, if he raised it, it could be a male tenor. He had a white shock of hair through his dark black locks, pale skin, and cold, cold eyes. But there was a depth there, pain beyond pain, something I couldn't understand. Why was he in pain? Mrs. Lovett didn't notice as she babbled on.

"But surely it'd be easier to 'elp if we knew wot 'appened!" she protested in her high pitched voice. Now that I focused, she was pale also, with ratty reddish-brown hair, and dark rings under her eyes that looked more like they came from stress than from sleepless nights. What could have her so stressed out? Probably the stress of running a shop nowadays. Mr. Todd looked like he was going to snap, but I interjected.

"I-it's okay, I don't mind. As long as I don't have to go into a lot of…detail," I had both of their attention now. I closed my eyes, thinking back to as much as I could remember. "It…it was dark. I couldn't see much, I think I'd been drinking before hand…or something. H-he came out of nowhere; he asked if I needed help. I said no and tried to continue on my way, but he wouldn't…let me. I tried to run-" I edited the part about him trying to kiss me; I didn't want to think about that. "-but he caught up to me. I tripped. After that, it's hard to remember. I remember there was…a lot of pain. And blood. But beyond that, I…don't know." My voice broke, and I went quiet. Sweeney was looking furious, but not with me. He looked like he wanted to find the attacker and…I dunno. Do something bad. It made me feel kind of…nice that he cared, even though I didn't even know him.

"Wot's your name, love?" Mrs. Lovett asked, looking curious. I frowned in sudden confusion. Try as I might, I…couldn't remember. I had no idea what my name was or where I came from. In fact, I couldn't remember much of anything before I was attacked.

"I…don't know," I muttered quietly.

"Wot d'ya mean ya don't know?" Mrs. Lovett demanded rather snappily, as though I'd done something wrong. I flinched at the pitch of her tone, moaning in pain again. My headache had not gotten any better in the past few moments.

"Do you remember anything?" Mr. Todd asked in a much quieter voice, in a tone that said he was generally uninterested, just responding because he had to. I was puzzled by that, but I shook my head.

"Not really," I whispered.

"Well, we 'ave to call you somethin'," Mrs. Lovett muttered, obviously trying to think of a name I could go by until I remembered my real name. But I wasn't concerned with that at the moment.

"Do you have a mirror?" I asked quietly, the only volume I could manage. I realized why I couldn't get my voice to be very loud; my throat ached like someone poured sand down it, though I'm sure that wasn't the case. "And maybe some water or something?"

"Yeah, but trust me, dearie, you don' want to lookit yourself right now," Mrs. Lovett told me, bustling out of the room for a moment and coming back with water. I drank deeply, and it definitely made my throat feel better.

"I want to see how bad it is," I said a little more firmly, though I wasn't really sure I _did _want to see. But it might give me some idea as to a name I could give myself. Mrs. Lovett reluctantly handed over a little silver hand mirror. I looked reluctantly.

No doubt, if what I looked like now was any basis, I must have looked dead when they found me. No wonder they'd had to check my pulse. Both eyes had dark bruises around them, and the skin around them was abnormally pale. There was a small cut on my bottom lip that had scabbed over, but not a scrap of blood to be found. Mrs. Lovett probably had her work cut out for her, getting all the blood off. I could tell there were several knots, scabs, and much bruising beneath my dark hair on my scalp from where I'd had such a horrid beating. My face was covered in bruises, some darker than others. There were also bruises on my neck, and I'm sure the rest of my body was bruised just as badly, though I didn't care to check. My arms were covered in cuts from trying to defend myself, I could only assume. My hair looked like it had been washed and combed while I slept. But most prominent was the fact that I still looked scared. There was still fear there, though I was not being threatened. I stared for quite a while before hastily placing the mirror face down on my lap. I didn't want to keep looking at myself.

"I think I look like a…Melanie," I muttered, deciding on what my name would be until, or if, I got my memory back.

"Okay, dear, we'll call you that," Lovett agreed. It was a moment before either of us realized I was crying. I blinked and wiped the tears away, a little ashamed.

"Wot's wrong, dear?" she asked concernedly. I sniffled.

"Well, it's nothing, just… I mean, we don't even know each other. You didn't have to help me, but you did anyways…" I let out a strangled sob, my explanation cut short. For the first time in a few minutes, Mr. Todd spoke up, as quietly as ever.

"Well, that's easily fixed. I'm Sweeney Todd, and this is my…neighbor, Nellie Lovett. She owns the pie shop, and I'm a barber. Now we know each other," he introduced in an almost hushed tone. "Now, if you two will excuse me, I must go tend to my shop." His and Lovett's eyes met for a moment, and it was almost as though they knew something I didn't. He left.

"Don't mind Mr. T, he's a quiet one 'e is, stays up in 'is shop mostly. Always knock before goin' in if you go up there, okay love? Anyways, we was thinkin' 'bout goin' out tomorrow. Do you think you'll feel up to it?" I was starting to see that Lovett was very talkative.

"I might. How long has it been since you found me?" I asked, trying to assess how fast I was healing.

"We just found you this morning," she told me. Wow, I was healing that fast?

"I think I'll be okay to go out by tomorrow, but…people might ask about my bruises and stuff…" I muttered, still thinking.

"Well, that's easily dealt with. I can just use a little makeup to cover it up, shouldn't be all that difficult. And for the cuts, we can say you fell down the stairs to Mr. T's shop," Lovett said rather offhandedly. She noticed that I stifled a yawn right then. "Get some sleep, you look like your about to drop." I nodded and curled back up on the little couch-like piece of furniture that had been transformed into a sort of makeshift bed for me, eyes drooping.

"Oh, and dear?" I 'hmm'ed in response. I was suddenly exhausted. "When you get up, we'll find you somethin' t'wear, your dress was covered in blood." I nodded absently, but I realized that I wasn't wearing the same dress I had worn the night before. I had been redressed in a nightgown that was just about a size too big. But I dismissed that thought, my eyes closing as I once again fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 3: Barbers

**Thanks again for the reviews! This chapter's rather boring, but necessary. I'll update extra quickly to compensate for the sucky chapter.**

**Chapter 3**

When I awoke the next morning, I only had the slightest of headaches, and many of the pains on my body from the day before had faded. I felt much better than the day before, but my head was still tender, so brushing my hair was quite difficult and mildly painful. Once I had gotten my hair brushed, Mrs. Lovett invited me to look through her wardrobe and see if anything fit me, before going to open her pie shop, though it didn't seem to have many customers normally. There was about an inch of dust on every table. I wondered why, but decided not to ask and went about my search for something that would fit me. I got lucky and found something that was just about my size. Once I was dressed, I wandered out of the little room that had been my resting place for the past day for the first time. I must've looked nervous, because Mrs. Lovett seemed to think I did.

"Don't be scared, love, nothin's gonna jump out 'n get ya," she said rather offhandedly, chopping something up. I wondered what the hell it was, but again kept my mouth shut. I sat in a chair rather shyly, looking out of the windows now and then. I jumped when a small bell chimed, but when I looked to see who it was, I relaxed. It was only Mr. Todd. He was looking rather depressed, and tired. Like he hadn't gotten any sleep the night before. I felt a little bad for him.

"Are we going or not?" he growled. It was directed at Mrs. Lovett, yet I was the one that looked down shyly. Why was I shy?

"O' course, dear," Lovett replied, sticking the knife in the cutting board and grabbing a hat that made her look more like she was going out. "Let's go." I stood up rather hastily and hurried after them as they walked out the door. I made sure to stay close, because I kept thinking I saw someone in the shadows. I knew I was probably just being paranoid, but I couldn't help it. I hardly said a word, but I wasn't paying attention to what anyone else was saying either. When I paid attention, though, I realized the only one talking was Lovett. Mr. Todd was virtually silent as the grave, not contributing to conversation at all. We neared a small crowd, around a little stand. I wondered what the gathering was about. When we got a little closer, I saw there was this little kid trying to sell something.

"Really, it works! See what it done to my 'ead?" the little boy seemed to be trying to sell some sort of miracle hair growth something-or-other. Mr. Todd frowned, taking a bottle from someone nearby. He peered at it, then opened the bottle, smelling the strange substance.

"It's piss," he muttered. "This is fraud." He said it just loud enough to be heard, and I looked to the young boy to see what his reaction would be. He was frowning at Mr. Todd.

"Don't listen to him, ladies and gentlemen, he doesn't know what he's talking about," Toby said over Sweeney's constant insistence to those around him that they were being scammed. Finally, it looked like something bright purple appeared from behind the curtain backdrop of the stage the young boy had been trying to sell the concoction on. It took me a minute to get over the bright colors and realize that it was an Italian wearing a cape.

"Who's-a insulting my Elixir?" he demanded in a flamboyant voice. I frowned. There was something fake sounding about it. I couldn't put my finger on it, though. Not a noise was heard for a moment.

"I did," Sweeney spoke up, casting a glance over the oddly colorful Italian. "I'm Sweeney Todd, of Fleet Street," as he spoke, he wove his way through the crowd, heading towards the stage. "I've opened a bottle of your _miracle elixir, _and I say that it is nothing but fraud. All you did was bottle piss and ink and are trying to sell it to these good people." To me, it sounded like he had to force the words 'good people' out. I supposed he didn't like society.

"And-a who are you to-a be insulting my-a product? I am-a the barber here!" Pireli, as his signs announced, snapped.

"Well, _signor, _I'm new around here, but I say that _I'm _the barber around here," Sweeney said quietly. I watched silently, just like the rest of the crowd, as he whipped two razors out of their holsters. "I wager these in a contest, which of us is the better barber. If I win, you give me five pounds. If you win, I give you these razors. Do we have a deal?" Pireli seemed to realize that he really had no choice in the matter. I could tell that if he refused, all the customers gathered around would just leave, abandoning the idea that his elixir could help their balding problems.

"Fine. But I-a assure you that-a you shall not-a walk away a winner!" I was getting seriously annoyed with the Italian accent. It drilled into my head and made my eye twitch because I knew _something _about this guy was fake.

"Anyone care for a free shave?" Sweeney quietly asked the crowd, who immediately jockeyed for position. "Will Beadle Bamford be the judge?" a man I had never seen before stepped forward. He seemed to have a permanent sneering smugness on his face, and looked a bit like a rat. I wondered if his personality was the same.

"Of course," he sneered, confirming that he was just as arrogant as he looked. He stood beside the stage, pulling a whistle from around his neck. "The fastest, smoothest shave is the winner!" and he blew his whistle, beginning the contest.

Sweeney and Pireli seemed to begin the same, each one drawing out their razors to sharpen them. But there was a broad difference in their styles. Sweeney was very quiet, sharpening his razor slowly, with the delicate care one would show to a precious gem as they shine it. Pireli had the young boy hold the end of his sharpening strap…thing, carelessly running the blade back and forth, causing the poor boy's knuckles to get nicked. He chattered the whole time about barbering and how he was the best and how he shaved the pope, yada yada, as he lathered his subject. Sweeney, however, was still sharpening the blade. Pireli then started shaving his subject, still chattering on and shaving rather carelessly, with no real meaning behind each stroke. Meanwhile, Sweeney finished sharpening his blade, folded it, put it away, and started lathering his customer. Pireli was all but forgetting the meaning of the contest as he stopped every few moments to talk to the crowd some more. Finally, Sweeney drew out his razor, and with a few well placed strokes, he was done.

"The winner is Todd!" Beadle announced. Pireli's head whipped around as though he could not believe it as the crowd cheered. I clapped rather enthusiastically, while Lovett had the most peculiar expression on her face. I started to make my own way to the stage as Beadle, Pireli, and Sweeney shared a few words. I reached the stage just as Pireli was congratulating Sweeney, seeming to avoid the actual rewards he owed the more skilled barber.

"Me five pounds," Sweeney reminded him, holding up one hand impatiently. Pireli handed the money over, then turned to his young 'apprentice'. Sweeney, Lovett, and I were walking away as we heard sounds of the poor kid being beaten inside the little stand. I glanced back, wondering if we should do anything. I heard Lovett mutter something about feeling sorry for the lad, but I wasn't paying attention. I wanted to help him somehow, but I wasn't sure how.

We made it back to the shop before long, the sun still high in the sky. Sweeney parted company with us silently, sulking up to his shop. Lovett and I entered the pie shop, though my thoughts were still elsewhere.

"That poor kid," I muttered.

"I know. But wot can we do 'bout it? We don't even know the lad," but I could tell Lovett was also thinking about ways to help him. I sighed; my head was pounding again. I swear Lovett could read minds or something.

"Why don' you go lie down for a little while, dear?" she asked, looking a bit concerned. I consented, and returned to the little room I had spent the whole previous day in. I lay down on the little couch-like piece of furniture, laying flat on my back, deep in thought. Why was Sweeney so distant? I could tell something was troubling him, but I couldn't tell what. I wasn't a mind reader. I lay there for a long time, lost in my thoughts, until I finally sat up and looked out of a window. It was dark out. Had I really been lying there for that long? I blinked, then changed for bed and curled up, letting my eyes close and loosing myself in my thoughts again, until I fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 4: Panic

**Chapter 4**

The next day was rather uneventful. Certainly less eventful than the day before. At the beginning anyways. Mrs. Lovett asked me if I could watch the shop while she took something up to Mr. Todd, and I obliged, though I was nervous still about staying by myself anywhere for any length of time. Looking out of a window on the door that led to the staircase to Mr. Todd's barber shop, I noticed she was taking a chair up there. I guessed that he was fairly new in town. After a while, I couldn't keep myself in the pie shop and ventured up the stairs curiously, though glancing over my shoulder now and then nervously. Suddenly, I stopped on the stairs and tilted my head to the side as a familiar purple-clad Italian made an appearance. What was Pirelli doing here? Just as I thought this, Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd bustled out of the barber shop.

"Mr. T needs to talk business with Pirelli, we need t'keep the boy down stairs," Lovett hissed in my ear. I caught on quickly, deciding to act first, ask questions later. I approached the pair of visitors as they neared the stairs themselves.

"Hello there! You're that kid that we saw yesterday, am I right?" I said in my most friendly voice. The poor kid had the look of someone that was abused often. I could somewhat relate to the feeling he must have, the way he seemed to flinch every time Pirelli as much as moved.

"D'ya mind if we take the boy in for a pie?" Lovett asked kindly of Pirelli as Sweeney glowered at him. I was curious as to why he hated him so, but I ignored it as I steered the poor kid inside at a nod from Mrs. Lovett. Meanwhile, Sweeney and Pirelli went up to the barber shop, closing the door behind them.

"Now then, what's your name?" I asked the kid as he sat down at a table. Lovett sat opposite him as I took a seat next to him.

"Toby, ma'am," he answered. "Well, actually, my full name's Tobias, but everyone just calls me Toby." I nodded. I kept glancing up at the ceiling, unable to keep my eyes and thoughts on the task at hand.

"Dear, if you must, go up there," Lovett finally sighed. I jumped up gratefully and made my leave, Lovett now prying on Toby's life. I had the strangest feeling she was just trying to keep him talking. As I nervously entered the barber shop, I immediately noticed something was different. Something was very…wrong. Sweeney was much stiffer, and Pirelli had lost his Italian accent. He was playing with one of Sweeney's razors, and for some reason calling him, 'Barker'.

"You'll be handin' over half your earnin's from now on, or should I run down the street to my friend Beadle?" I felt my head tilt a little to the side at Pirelli's smooth tone. "Do we have a deal, Mr. _Sweeney Todd?" _Pirelli sneered the name in his now obviously fake Italian accent. I was very confused, and even more so when Sweeney suddenly spun around with a hot kettle in his hand, striking it across Pirelli's face with vicious brutality I had not seen in him before. I was frozen where I stood, remembering the vicious pain in my head as something slammed into it repeatedly, over and over, as Sweeney was now doing to Pirelli. I couldn't bring myself to run or to scream, or to in any way draw attention to myself. With each attack, a little more blood appeared on Pirelli's face as Sweeney drew back. Finally, though, the barber stopped the vicious attack, and I felt myself breathe again. It seemed Sweeney only then noticed I was there.

"Melanie, I-" he didn't get to finish explaining, for at that moment we both heard a door open below. We glanced at each other, and though I didn't understand, when we both looked at each other, I realized that Sweeney didn't want to be discovered.

"Help me!" he hissed. Though I was disturbed by Pirelli's still body, I helped Sweeney drag him over to a trunk. Just as we were stuffing him in, the door knob turned. Sweeney hurried to pick the kettle up, and I slammed the trunk closed and ran to the other side of the room, trying to look normal as I stood against the wall. It was only when Sweeney took his hopefully normal stance behind where the door would be when opened, that I noticed something I'd missed; Pirelli's hand was sticking out.

Toby burst in. "Sir, you have an-" he cut off in confusion as he noticed the only people in the room were myself and Sweeney. I forced my face into a smile, though I was still very much horrified.

"Signor Pirelli was called away on urgent business," Sweeney quickly made up a story that would pacify Toby. The young boy sat down on the very chest we'd hidden Pirelli in; the very chest that his fingers were still sticking out of.

"I should wait for him here then," Toby informed us nervously. As he sat, though, the fingers twitched. I felt my eyes widen, and Sweeney suddenly looked rushed.

"Why don't you go back down stairs?" Sweeney suggested in the nicest voice he could manage. "I'm sure there'll be a pie in it for you…"

"No, I really should stay here," Toby said seriously. A muscle in Sweeney's face twitched. I took over.

"Why don't you go tell Mrs. Lovett we said to give you a bit of gin, eh?" Toby brightened up at that. I knew I'd said the magic words.

"Thanks ma'am, sir!" and he scrambled out before we could say anything else. Sweeney strode over to the trunk as the door swung shut. He opened the lid, a very disoriented Pirelli trying to sit up. I was shocked he could even manage that after being bludgeoned so viciously. Sweeney grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, and I shut my eyes firmly, ducking my head and facing away. I wasn't going to watch. I heard a scrape, metal against metal, then choking sounds, and something wet hitting the floor. I didn't notice for a moment that I had pretty much collapsed, now on my knees as I still refused to even turn in the direction of the trunk. I heard the lid close. I heard the door open and the quick footsteps of Mrs. Lovett.

"The boy's drinkin' me outa house 'n home!" she complained. "When's Pirelli gettin' back?" I slowly turned my head, struggling to keep myself together. I'd never had to deal with death before, not that I could remember, anyways. The closest I'd come to having to deal with death was my own near-death experience.

"He's not comin' back," Sweeney growled, turning to face Mrs. Lovett enough so that she could see the blood on his 'razor arm' sleeve. She eyed the blood skeptically.

"Mr. T, ya didn'!" she went over to the trunk he nodded at, and creaked the lid open, peeking in. She slammed it shut almost immediately, her eyes turning to Sweeney. "You're barkin' mad! Killin' a man wot done ya no 'arm!" Sweeney looked extremely passive for a man who'd just killed someone. Oddly, I found I was not scared of him, though I was certainly not handling the fact he'd killed someone very well. I was still shaking, not yet back on my feet.

"He tried to blackmail me. Half me earnings," Sweeney explained this calmly, bewildering me as to how he could take this all so lightly. Mrs. Lovett's reaction confused me even further.

"Oh. Well that's different then," Mrs. Lovett said offhandedly, pulling the lid back open. 'Well that's different then'?! Sweeney'd just killed somebody, and she takes blackmail as an excuse to kill him! I was still too shocked to stand.

"Lookit all that blood," she sighed, then gingerly pulled open his jacket and stole his frilly little purse, jingling it to see how much it had in it. "Oh well," she muttered, stuffing the purse down her dress. But Sweeney was no longer paying attention. "Well, wot're we gonna do with th' boy?" Sweeney's eyes turned cold, as did my blood at his next words.

"Send him up," he growled. Mrs. Lovett didn't like that.

"Now, Mr. T, surely one's enough for today?" she asked in an almost seductive tone. It didn't take a genius to know she fancied him.

"Send him up!" Sweeney growled more forcefully. Lovett wasn't backing down.

"Actually, I was thinkin' that I could hire him to work in the shop," she insisted. She wasn't going to let Sweeney get rid of him, that much I could tell. Sweeney seemed to give up with a single 'Fine.' Suddenly, he looked out the window. His eyes widened.

"The judge!"

**I just felt like she needed to be there. Bring her truly into the action, you know? No, she's not going to stick around for the judge. –hiss- If I wasn't following the movie, he'd be dead already.**


	6. Chapter 5: Plot

**Author's Note: Slightly modified Chapter 5. I got over my fit of rage and therefore took back my little outburst and now it's just a couple of quiet chapters to work on characterization. Sorry for the sudden change on you guys! **

**Chapter 5**

"But-I-wha-" All I could manage were incoherent babbles as Mrs. Lovett pulled me to my feet.

"Babble all you like dearie, I'll answer any questions ya got, and I's sure ya got alota 'em. But we need to go now." Lovett was interrupted by a panicky demand from Sweeney.

"_Get out!" _he hissed, using a 'shoo' hand gesture for good measure. I felt numb as I was dragged out. Judge? What judge? I felt I was missing something, something big. We reached the bottom of the stairs at the same time as the new patron, once again. As he passed, he glanced at me, and it made me shiver. He looked at me like I was an object on a shelf or something, then moved on up the stairs while Mrs. Lovett dragged me into the pie shop, and into the room I was staying in. Toby was passed out not far away, clutching a bottle of gin.

"_What's going on?!" _I hissed once we sat down. I hadn't relaxed since going up the stairs. I was sincerely glad I hadn't seen Pirelli's throat slit, but I still had the image of his beaten, bloody form in my head.

"Ow much do you know?" Mrs. Lovett asked.

"I just saw an Italian-or fake Italian-beaten to death up in Mr. Todd's shop. That's about it," I answered shakily. "Why'd he kick us out? What's the big deal about a stupid judge? What is going on?!"

"Shh, you'll wake Toby," Lovett whispered, then continued. "Well, see, Mr. T didn' used to be this way. He used to be a kind fella, very gentle. And, well, you can see the change, can't ya? Well, fifteen years ago, he 'ad a wife and kid, and they were what you'd call the 'perfect family'. But ya see, there was this judge that coveted his wife. Wanted her like mad, 'e did. So 'e came up with a trumped up charge to send Mr. T to prison for life. But 'e got out, an' now he's out for revenge. He won't talk about anything but that bloody judge and his daughter. He has his daughter you know. Yeah, the judge has Johanna, poor thing. It's people like that damn judge that make it dangerous for women to go out at night by themselves." I shuddered, realizing the meaning of her words. Poor Johanna. I wondered what she looked like. She probably favored her mother when it came to looks, so I couldn't conjure up a picture.

"Poor thing," I agreed. But that was meant for both Sweeney and his daughter. No wonder he was so cold and detached. If I'd had my whole life stolen from me, I wouldn't want to get close to anyone either. The whole amnesia problem I was having didn't count because I couldn't remember my life; I couldn't miss what I didn't have memories of.

"That's not all. Once Mr. T was gone, Turpin invited 'is wife to a fancy ball he was havin'. She obliged politely like a lady should, but… it wasn't such a great idea. He raped her. After that, she poisoned herself," I didn't need Lovett to finish. I could assume what happened. I thought for a moment, then remembered a photo I'd glimpsed on the little counter in Sweeney's shop just before we'd left. I hadn't paid much attention to it at the time, as I'd been distracted at the time, as you can imagine, but now that I thought about it, it was easy to assume that was a portrait of the family he had lost. Poor Sweeney, I couldn't help thinking. I knew he probably wouldn't appreciate my sympathy, but I couldn't help but feel sad for him.

"How old was his daughter then? Before he left, I mean?" I asked.

"Just 'bout a year old," Mrs. Lovett answered. Suddenly she looked up. "Damn, what's he doin' 'ere?" I turned to notice a young man, who looked a little more feminine than the average male, start up the stairs excitedly. Lovett and I looked worriedly at the ceiling, both of us probably thinking the same thing; _What if he sees something?_ The soft sound of voices above us came abruptly to a stop at the opening of a shop door. There was angry stomping down the stairs as I saw Sweeney's prime target storm away, and I heard Sweeney scream at the young boy. I noticed he left extremely quickly as well, and Lovett and I hurried up the stairs to check that Sweeney hadn't done anything rash to expose him or something similar.

"Wot's all the yellin' about?" Lovett demanded as we hurried in the door.

"What happened?" I inquired.

"I had him. He was right there…RIGHT THERE!" Sweeney was beside himself with rage. "I just had to do it… one slash of the razor… RIGHT THERE!"

"Now, now, calm down love," Lovett tried to sooth him, but it didn't work.

"Calm down?! CALM DOWN?! _You're _the one that told me to WAIT, damn it!" Sweeney roared.

"Please, calm down, you'll find another way," I tried quietly, timidly. He glared at me, but didn't seem to be able to blame me for anything. So he let out a wordless scream of frustration. He turned and glared into a broken mirror, both me and Lovett watching him carefully. Suddenly a new energy seemed to overtake him.

"He's not the only one that needs to die. We all do. What better way to rid the world of perverts like him than to just get rid of all of mankind?!" Sweeney was starting to sound quite maniacal. I was starting to feel quite scared.

"Don't say that, it's not the ans-" I broke off as I was roughly shoved against the wall by the neck. The grip on my neck wasn't so hard to choke me, but the deja-vu was stifling; it was all I could do not to scream. I didn't like being cornered or pinned against anything.

"What do you know?! Life is so unfair that even killing someone that isn't evil would be nothing but a relief for them," Sweeney snarled at me. I was slowly starting to hyperventilate.

"Let go, let go, let go," I couldn't help whimpering under my breath. I could feel myself starting to shake.

"Mr. T, love, let her go," Lovett said warningly, only to give a tiny gasp as he shoved her into the barber chair, slipped up behind her, and held his razor to her throat. I sank to the floor in relief that he let me go without so much as a scratch. Sure, it seems irrational to get scared by simply getting pinned against a wall, but it brought on such strong deja-vu that I couldn't think past being pinned to the wall.

"Why should I?" he snarled, and it didn't look like he was going to stop soon. "They didn't let go when I wanted them to! They dragged me off to that damn prison while my Lucy and Johanna were left all alone to fend for themselves!" his hand slowly fell from where it held the razor sternly in place, and he wandered to the window, glaring out. "This damn city, all of the whole human race showed me no kindness. Why should they receive any mercy from me? That's why I'll kill them all, one by one." He suddenly seemed much more animated, full of life for a brief moment. "Not a one of them can escape me! I _will _have them. I'll have my vengeance, my salvation." He had a fiercely gleeful look in place.

"That's wonderful, but wot're we gonna do 'bout 'im?" Lovett asked, jerking her head towards the trunk. I shuddered at the thought of opening the body-sized box. Sweeney didn't respond, lost in his thoughts. She sighed and went to him, grabbing him under the arms and dragging him out of the shop and downstairs. I followed silently, my eyes still huge.

We entered the shop. I was shocked to find that Toby was still nowhere to be seen. He must still be unconscious. Lovett pushed Sweeney into a seat and disappeared into the side room. When she returned, she had a bottle of gin in her hand, and she poured Sweeney a glass, hopefully to calm him down. He took it, staring into space, and taking a sip. I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it again.

"Now, wot are we gonna do 'bout 'im?" she asked, jerking her head up to indicate the shop, and the body hidden inside. I decided to try to ignore that fact and not let the image of all the violence that had taken place re-enter my mind.

"Wait 'till it's dark, we'll take it to some secret place and bury it," Sweeney muttered in a monotone. I relaxed slightly. At least something was normal. I wasn't sure how much oddities I could take.

"Oh," Lovett seemed a little disappointed about the lack of creativity in the disposal plan. "I s'pose we could do that. Don't s'pose he's got any relative gonna come pokin' around lookin' for him."

"What're you getting at?" I wondered quietly.

"Well…seein' as th' price of meat's so high these days and all…" Lovett danced around what she was trying to say, so to speak. Sweeney and I both stared at her in bewilderment, until I heard a tiny gasp of understanding from where Sweeney sat.

"Good, you've got it!" Lovett grinned at him.

"Brilliant idea, Mrs. Lovett!" Sweeney said enthusiastically. I felt my eyes widen as I, too, understood.

"I'm going outside," I said hurriedly, not wanting to get sick by simply staying to listen to the planning.

"Okay dear, be careful," Lovett said quickly, and I left with the same haste. I would return later, of course, after they were done planning. I had nowhere else to go, after all, and they were my friends, I suppose.

Friends…it seemed that way, though we'd only just met. I wasn't sure how that was possible in such a short time, or why I was even going back after what I'd seen. It came down to the fact that I truly had no other place to go. But there was something else. The fact that every time I was in the same room as Sweeney my heart seemed to go into overdrive. The fact that I wanted nothing more than to be close to him, that I wanted to get to know him better and hope that maybe he might want the same. And slowly, I finally started to realize something I had been denying since meeting him.

I was in love with the Demon Barber of Fleet Street.


	7. Chapter 6: Talk

**Author's Note: Completely different chapter 6. Sorry for the change. Anyways, it's all in Melanie's point of view, just some characterization stuff, not a big chapter. Plus, I thought it'd be nice to give you guys something else to read, and see what you think. Push that review button! **

**Chapter 6**

For the next few days, things felt very tense. I was never included in discussions about the 'business', but it wasn't like I didn't know exactly what was going on. But I was slowly learning to ignore the instinctive gag reflex I got whenever someone went up to Sweeney's shop, when I would imagine blood squirting viciously from their jugulars. But when the shop was closed for the night, or when we were having slow days, I'd go up to the shop, just to escape the maddening chatter of Toby and Mrs. Lovett. Nothing against them, but it starts to bore into your skull after listening to it for a while. Sweeney never objected, and it was very quiet in his shop. I tried to avoid thoughts of how many had met their ends in this room, and just kept to myself. When a customer would come, I would take my leave quickly, but hopefully not suspiciously. I was generally not allowed to help in the pie shop, because I always made a face when someone would bite into a pie. So I kept to myself then too. The silence wasn't bad, and I didn't mind being out of the crowd, but it did start to get a little lonely.

Besides, it left me too much time to my thoughts, and each and every time, they strayed to the barber I found myself unexplainably attracted to. I was disgusted by the vicious and macabre things taking place in his shop, by his hand, so it made no sense for me to be in love with him. These thoughts and ponderings bothered me every day, and I couldn't just shove it to the back of my mind.

Still, even though what he was doing was horrible, Sweeney seemed so much more alive now. How ironic. Fits of rage were rare now, though he was impatient. His one and only goal was the judge, and for the life of him he couldn't find a way to lure him back. This made me frustrated, as well as angry. It was all the judge's fault Sweeney was even like this, anyways.

I was still nervous around people or out in the open, but I was getting better. I didn't have to be dragged outside to get me to do anything, and I didn't always have to have someone with me. But I still avoided close contact with people. I was slowly becoming antisocial, I realized. I didn't like being around people, but it didn't mean I couldn't go around people anymore.

I often found I wanted to talk to someone, but lacked the words to say what I was feeling a lot of the time. And it's difficult to get anything out when one person you live with is a chatterbox and the other is silent as the grave most of the time. Slowly though, I started being able to sort things out in my head, and that made it easier to start talking. I was trying to be less shy, but it was difficult.

One day in particular, I was feeling a little bold, and I decided I was going to talk to someone. Toby and Mrs. Lovett were busy with the pies, but Sweeney was having a slow day. It took me a moment to convince myself that I should, then I went up the stairs to his shop.

"Hi," I muttered shyly as I poked my head in the door, followed by the rest of me. He just kind of nodded in response, staring out of the window again. He had a sad look on his face. Of course. He was brooding again. I wandered a little closer, but not by much.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked him, staring thoughtfully at him, waiting for a response. It seemed he couldn't answer. He frowned, opened his mouth as though to answer, but then closed it again.

Finally he muttered, "I don't know." I nodded in understanding-I knew that feeling-and simply stood next to the wall for a few moments, sorting out my thoughts to find something else to say. Luckily, my tongue-tied-ness wasn't a problem, as at that moment a customer decided to show up. I muttered a quick 'bye' to the barber and left.

Okay, maybe that hadn't gone quite like I thought. But I'd at least said something. Maybe tomorrow I could try again. Why was it so hard to talk to him? I guess…I was just a quiet person. It's the only reason I could come up with. There was no way being in love with him was affecting my ability to talk to him, of course. I knew that was a lie to myself, but it made me feel better because I still wasn't ready to truly admit it to myself.

I continued to deny it because I didn't want to be in love. I didn't even know who I was, who was I to meddle in other people's lives when I didn't even know about my own? This single question spawned a whole new range of thoughts that actually made me quite depressed. Why should I even stay there, for one, and why couldn't I remember anything at all about myself for two. I knew I was only staying because I had nowhere else to go, though I knew that I wouldn't leave even if there was some place that would take me in. I'd gotten attached to these people; they were my friends.

Friends… That word alone gave me a flashback to the last night I was…whoever I was before loosing my memory. I shooed it away before I could go into my own brooding mode. Sweeney wasn't the only one with reasons to be depressed.

Later that night, I slunk back upstairs. I was still feeling restless. I slowly opened the door, hesitantly. I wasn't sure if he was in a bad mood or not.

"Can I come in?" I asked quietly, poking my head in.

"Yeah," he growled, almost inaudibly. I walked inside, closing the door behind me. He was sitting in his barber chair, looking at something in his hand. It looked almost like a book, without pages. I wandered over curiously and peeked over his shoulder, discovering that it was two portraits in a folding frame. It showed a pretty blonde woman, and a little baby.

"Is that your family?" I asked quietly. His head turned a little to the side before returning to stare at the picture; I suppose he hadn't heard me approach.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice a little softer than before. There was a distinct note of sadness in it; I felt my heart break slightly for him. He'd been through more than he disserved.

"I'm sorry about them," I muttered, only to find that my voice sounded strangled. Like I was crying. It took me a moment to realize I was. Sweeney turned again to frown at me.

"Are you…crying?" he asked. I felt myself blush as I turned my head away. "Why?"

"Because I…feel sorry for you," I muttered; it was the truth, I couldn't help it. Predictably, he didn't appreciate it. He stood, put the picture back on his little vanity where he kept his barbering things, and paced to the window, glaring out at the London skyline.

"I don't need your pity," he growled. I felt I'd pried enough for one evening. I turned to leave.

As I closed the door, I thought I heard a quiet sob.


	8. Chapter 7: Opposites

**Sorry guys, my computer was acting up last night, so if you see this: **Chapter Eight: Keyboarding Finale** before the past couple of chapters, that's why. It's from a totally other story, and I don't even know how it got in this one, but that's my computer for you. I think I got rid of it though.  
**

**Author's Note: Yet another chapter. We get some more Sweeney-Melanie dialog, and a little bit of drabble through Sweeney's point of view about Melanie. About things he would never, ever say out loud. Don't forget the reviews!**

**Chapter 7**

Things were still going maddeningly according to plan. Business was good, both Sweeney's and Lovett's, the remaining bruises from my…encounter were fading, and the rest of London was none the wiser to what we were up to. I supposed that was a good thing, but the thoughts of the poor souls that met their ends in the room above the pie shop disturbed me still, particularly in my dreaming hours. I couldn't keep my thoughts away whilst I slept, and thus nightmares occurred. Luckily, the only thing I could ever remember in the morning was the bright red of blood against the dark red of the cushions of the barber chair. It was usually then that I'd jolt awake, wait for my heart to slow back to its normal pace, then fall back asleep, that time without dreaming, and forget all about it in the morning.

I still would go up and visit Sweeney, but it had taken a few days to get my courage up to try again. I continued trying to talk, never anything that needed full answers, and I didn't bring up his family again. I knew better now. And not only because of the outburst, though a quiet one, I'd gotten from feeling sorry for Sweeney about them.

No; when I had looked at that picture, into the face of the woman I had never met that I knew had been his wife, and the child that was still alive, that could still return, I'd felt a surge of pure jealousy so strong I was shocked I could feel such a thing. Jealousy because these people, one dead and one gone, meant more to Sweeney than I ever could. The tears had sprouted, yes, because I pitied Sweeney his fate and the fate of his family, but also because that jealousy had also brought depression, and depression was not a welcome friend in my head. I had enough of everything else to deal with to add depression to the deal.

Jealousy. It was an ugly word. I cannot explain where it came from, since I'd already known for a long time that I had no place in his life. Not that way. I was just a little innocent nothing in the background.

I started becoming reclusive. I withdrew into my own head, but even there I wasn't safe; a little voice there continued to hiss vicious accusations at me when I was the most vulnerable, when I was pushing everyone away.

Because I was becoming so preoccupied with myself, I found myself able to help in the pie shop without my face giving away anything. Customers continued filing up into Sweeney's shop, where they would never return from, and fellow customers would then, er, enjoy the profit from that venture.

We'd have a lot of heart attack victims if anyone ever discovered what was in the pies. But thankfully, all of them, including Toby, remained nice and stupid. No one noticed their fellows disappearing before their eyes.

I was still somewhat nervous around people. Mainly men. But that was only to be understood, right? No one questioned it, in any case. Toby and I had even worked out a strategy for splitting the customers between ourselves when we were serving pies. He took the males, and I the females. It worked, and took a lot of strain off the both of us. He was a cute kid, just not the sharpest razor in the box, if you'll forgive the phrase. He was easy to talk to, I found, and I actually found myself thinking of him as a friend.

Until he and Lovett were in the same room together. Talk about mind numbing. Toby did everything she asked without question, they both chattered endlessly, and it was usually then that I'd retreat to my little sanctuary in the barber shop.

I found as long as I didn't bring up his family, and didn't talk too much, we got along quite well. The latter was an easy requirement. I didn't talk all that much, really. It was the former that was the problem.

Every time I asked something about his family, his eyes would get a little darker, his demeanor a little more frightening. Then, if I was stupid enough to keep prying, I was quickly shooed out of the shop. It didn't happen often.

"Mr. Todd?" I asked one day when I needed to escape the headache that was the pie shop below me. I never called him by his first name. Only in my head.

"What?" the response was almost inaudible.

"Do you ever feel like this is wrong? I mean, the, uh, thing with the customers," I didn't like saying the word 'kill'. It was just awkward for me. The glare he aimed at me said all there needed to be said; a resounding 'No'.

"Why?" I pressed. "Many of these people never did anything to you." His expression didn't lighten in the least.

"Haven't we been through this already?" he growled, idly polishing the razor in his hands. He folded it and replaced it in its holster at his belt. "Because, if they haven't done anything to me, they've done it to someone else. And if they haven't done anything, than they've had something done to them that isn't worth living. That answer your question?" I bit my lip.

"I haven't done anything. And I don't feel like death is better than this," I said very quietly. So quietly, I wondered if he could hear.

"Why not?" it was almost a snap, but it was too quiet to be so. "It only gets worse. Believe me when I say so; life is not kind."

"Mr. Todd, I'm not saying what happened to me wasn't horrible. It was; I still can't push it to the back of my mind like I want to. But I did gain something; I got three new friends, and I'm healing. I wish you could see that it's not impossible to move past this." And I left. I walked out the door, I didn't look back; I climbed down the stairs, leaving a very confused barber in my wake.

-_Sweeney Todd-_

I watched her go. I didn't know what to say to that. She was my opposite, and I could see our difference. I dwelled in the past, unable to forget, to furious to forgive. And while she hadn't forgiven or forgot, she was moving past it. She was living her life, whatever had happened to her. And the best that could be said of me was I was existing. I was starting to see her side, if only a little. I somewhat admired her for being able to leave it all behind her. Not as though it had never happened, but as though she was strong enough to heal from it. Despite her frail exterior, she was a very strong person. I respected her for that.

Of course, I would never say any of this out loud. I remembered she had pitied me. She felt sorry for me. She could have so easily pitied herself this whole time, but she was wasting her time feeling sorry for me.

But I knew there was something more. I'd seen something flash in her eyes, something I'd seen so many times in others' it was impossible not to recognize it. It was jealousy. She'd felt jealous. I couldn't blame her, it was a human reaction, and I almost admired her for hiding it as well as she did. That one moment, it must have taken her off guard, because I hadn't seen a bit of it since.

In every way, she was opposite to me. And her question today was the one that really made me sure of that. She was never the violent one, she was never harsh or cruel; in fact, she seemed to hate violence. She didn't understand why I was the way I was. And yet, we'd both had horrible things happen to us. She was possible one of the most confusing humans in existence at the moment for me. I never felt remorse for anything I was doing at the moment. Maybe I should.

But, I couldn't help feeling something else. No matter what she said, I couldn't make myself truly mad at her. I didn't understand why. I never considered taking a blade to her throat, I never considered hurting her at all. The thought just never entered my admittedly morbid mind. I didn't know why. I didn't know why I couldn't just think of her as another person. I hadn't been able to since we'd met. But, still, she was nothing but my opposite. We had nothing in common; there was nothing about her that should appeal to me.

You know what they say about opposites.


	9. Chapter 8: Home

**Author's Note: A little shorter than my last chapter, but it's a very, very important chapter. You'll see why… But when you're done, don't stop reading!**

**Chapter 8**

I supposed I felt bad for getting angry at Sweeney. Or, I guess I was more annoyed than upset. I just didn't know anymore. But I found I couldn't stay mad or annoyed with him. So, before I knew it, I was back up in the shop whenever there weren't any customers, just enjoying the quiet and his company. The pie shop below was always busy, so it was nice to have a retreat when the crowds poured in. Most of the time, both myself and the demon barber were perfectly content to sit in silence, but it was when I was trying to put my feelings into words in my head that the air got a little thicker, and everything seemed a little tenser. But I'd have to tell him sometime. I wasn't sure when, but I would have to tell him how I felt sometime or other if I was intending on keeping my sanity, though I was getting better at hiding my emotions. I found, though, that I could quite meet anyone's eyes when I was.

And then it happened. I should have known it would. It had to have happened sometime. Someone, someone I knew I knew but I couldn't remember who it was, recognized me. I should have known, seeing as I was currently living in the biggest sensation in London. But I couldn't help being confused and surprised when it did happen.

"Melody!" a young blond-haired girl said in surprise one day as she walked into the pie shop. (Sweeney's shop was busy that day, so I wasn't able to use my usual retreat.) I didn't think anything of it, until I noticed they were looking right at me and the fact that I was sure I knew who they were. I felt like I was trying to catch a little feather floating on the wind. Every time it seemed within my grasp, it would float a little farther out of reach. So I stopped trying to remember.

"D-do I know you?" I asked somewhat nervously, drawing back a little when the girl approached. She was about my age, I supposed. But she was bubbly and outgoing instead of meek and quiet, like I was.

"What happened to you? We were so worried! We thought some-wait, did you just ask-you don't remember me?" the blond's face went from delighted to crestfallen faster than Sweeney could slit a throat. I shook my head rather regretfully.

"Your best friend? Lianna? Why don't you remember?" she seemed extremely upset. I felt really…bad about it. I didn't mean to make her upset, but I couldn't remember for the life of me. I kind of shrugged.

"Lost my memory," I muttered, adverting my eyes.

"Why are you so quiet? Come on, I'll take you back home. Maybe some familiar sights will bring it back!" suddenly she was cheerful again, but I felt my heart flutter in panic. No! I didn't want to leave! But before I could do anything to stop her, she had already left a note informing my rescuers that she was taking me home, and she dragged me by my arm out of the door. I let myself be dragged, though my eyes were trained on the little barber shop above the pie shop where I'd been spending so much time.

I now sat in a traditional young woman's room, not sure what to do with myself. It all felt wrong, different, out of place. Everything was so…calm. I found myself missing the calamity of the pie shop. Apparently I had lived in a humble little house just on the outskirts of London with a working-class family. That wasn't what bothered me. What bothered me was that we were too far from Fleet Street for my liking.

Mostly, though, it didn't feel like home. I didn't feel at home, and while I knew I had been there before, and though I felt like it was all familiar despite having no memory of it, I didn't feel comfortable there. I didn't feel like I belonged there.

Everyone had been reintroducing me to everyone, but I guess Lianna must have been my best friend, because she could tell I was about to break down and told them all to leave me alone for a while. I was grateful. I needed a break from them. Not long after this, my 'friend' came to my room to talk. I let her; she was only concerned, after all.

"Now, what happened to you?" the young blond girl looked genuinely worried, so I retold the story again. I recalled I had only told it one other time…but I refused to let my mind wander back down Fleet Street to where my heart had remained, even though I was gone. When I was done, Lianna looked horrified.

"I'm so sorry! What happened after that?" she was listening, wide-eyed, as I recounted everything I dared to.

"Well, I guess I got lucky," I muttered quietly. "The next day Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett found me. If it weren't for them…I'd probably be dead." I fiddled with a thread on my dress, not meeting my friend's eyes. I supposed she really was my friend now. That gave me a total of four.

"That was so kind of them! And they've been taking care of you since then?" I nodded at her, but didn't trust myself to speak. Not even a full day and I already missed them so much I wanted to cry. Particularly the barber I found myself irrationally attracted to.

"You miss them don't you?" Lianna asked. I bit my lip.

"They were like family to me," I mumbled, trying to keep my composure. "They were all so kind to me, Toby and Mrs. Lovett and…Mr. Todd…" I paused, and I felt Lianna's eyes scrutinizing me.

"You liked him didn't you? Sweeney Todd?" she asked slyly. Out of habit, I jumped to the defensive.

"No!" I said as though it were appalling. But she smirked at me. I let out a defeated sigh. "Yes."

"I knew it!" she said triumphantly. I suddenly found the floor very interesting. I felt myself blushing. I hadn't admitted that to anyone, but she'd been able to coax it out of me with a single sentence and a look. I guess she really was my best friend. "Well? What's he like?" I bit my lip.

"Quiet. A little detached. But he's nice when he wants to be." _And vengeful, temperamental, and violent. _I added silently in my head. Friend or not, Lianna couldn't read my mind like a book, so the last bit went unnoticed.

"Really? Why do you like him?" she demanded out of curiosity.

"I…don't really know," I admitted. "I just do." Lianna smiled.

"Maybe it's love at first sight!" she said eagerly.

"Maybe." I agreed. I stifled a yawn. She noticed.

"You need to go to bed, you look exhausted," she ordered. I supposed I probably did. It was a lot to take in for one day. I could only hope tomorrow would be better. She made her leave through my door to the room next to mine (she was staying over for a while to make sure I was okay) to allow me some privacy. After changing into a nightgown, I curled up on my bed under the covers, staring out of a window, wondering what on earth I was going to do now.

**Author's Note Continued: Like I said, don't stop reading. Things will get put right, but give it about two chapters. Maybe one if I get good inspiration.**


	10. Chapter 9: Plan

**Author's Note: God, how did this chapter turn out so short? The next will be longer, I promise! Besides, in this one we get a new antagonist character… And also, if there's some confusion about what her name is now, for the rest of the story it's Melanie. No more confusing name changes.**

**Chapter 9**

Over the next few days, I slowly adjusted. But that didn't mean I missed my friends of Fleet Street any less. I had more or less been reintroduced to everyone important I had known, including a young man by the name of Brenton. I swear, a blind, deaf, and dumb man could have told he fancied me. Apparently, from what Lianna told me, he was courting me by permission of my parents, and was a well off man. She'd also warned him of what had happened to me, or so I assumed, because every time he tried to get closer to me than I liked, Lianna would clear her throat loudly, and he'd step back guiltily. But as soon as her back was turned he sidled back up to me. Frankly, it made me uncomfortable. I didn't like him so close. I had had contact issues for a while now. But the first time he put his arm around my shoulders, I froze.

"Brenton, back off!" Lianna jumped to my defense immediately, for which I was grateful. "She doesn't like close contact!" he narrowed his eyes. I could tell he didn't like being bossed around by a girl, and this time, he snapped back.

"I'm doing her family a _favor_," he snarled back, though his arm fell back to his side. I sidestepped away from him quickly, my heart rate returning to normal.

"Well, how about doing Melody a favor by not getting so close! Don't you remember what I told you?!" Lianna was surprisingly headstrong. I could only surmise that she was protective of her friends. I was still trying to get used to everyone calling me Melody. Personally, I liked Melanie much better.

I slipped away to my room as their voices raised, each shouting at the other. I wished I still had my little sanctuary to retreat to.

The situation didn't improve, and Lianna refused to leave me alone for hardly any length of time, to make sure Brenton wasn't making me uncomfortable. Which he did anyways, regardless of whether Lianna was there or not. Apparently, Lianna and Brenton had known each other for some time, because each picked fights with each other like they were old friends. Each time this happened, I retreated to my room.

Even that didn't provide relief. While I got away from my suitor for a time, I was left alone with my thoughts, and there was only one topic I was able to think about anymore; Sweeney Todd. My heart ached just thinking about him. I wanted to go back to Fleet Street, go back to where I felt I belonged, but I couldn't. I didn't know how I could possibly return.

One night, just before I readied for bed, Lianna came into my room, looking exhausted. She'd argued again with Brenton about whether or not he should leave me alone for the time being. I had, as usual, escaped to my room and run into my thoughts.

"I'm really sorry about him," the young blond muttered, glaring at the door through which she'd just come.

"Don't worry about it," I murmured back. She shook her head and sat on the bed next to me.

"But I do worry. I see how uncomfortable he makes you. I've seen how you act around men in general. That night really messed with your head didn't it?" it was creepy how well Lianna knew me, when I felt I hardly knew her. I bit my lip, then nodded my head.

"I-I just feel like I'm a tiny little fish that was suddenly thrown into the ocean. It's scary," I muttered. I felt comfortable with her, and often found myself saying things I wouldn't think of saying to others.

"I can tell. I can hear you crying at night, and you whimper in your sleep. You really aren't happy here are you?" Lianna looked a little sad, but I nodded anyways. Now she was the one biting her lip.

"Well then. I guess I can't keep you here if you're not happy. I'm going to get you back to Fleet Street if it kills me!" she looked determined, and I felt very touched.

"Y-you don't have to…it's not you…you've been wonderful to me…" I found I was babbling, not quite sure what to say to that. She smiled at me.

"I know. You just feel like you don't belong here. I understand. I'm not going to keep you here if you don't want to stay. But we'll have to be careful. Neither Brenton nor your parents will be very happy with you. But I think we can manage. We'll leave late at night, no one will suspect! Then you'll be long gone before anyone gets up, and I can climb in my window, get back in bed, and act like I have no idea where you are!" Lianna was suddenly animated, excited over the prospect. I felt my heart leap right into my throat. I was going back!

_-Brenton-_

Listening to the conversation in the room, I felt my eyes narrow in fury. How DARE she! She couldn't leave. I wouldn't let her. She was to be mine and mine alone, she wasn't going anywhere.

And that little brat Lianna…well, no one would miss her. I continued listening carefully. They were planning to leave tomorrow night, late. Apparently they believed no one would suspect it. Well, wouldn't I be a surprise? I didn't care what had happened to Melody, she was mine and I'd do whatever I pleased with her. I didn't give a damn if some God damn drunk attacked her. I didn't care if she didn't remember me. She was mine.

I continued my eavesdropping, and felt my stomach clench in fury as the girls started talking about that new barber in town. Sweeney Todd. So Melody intended to betray me for him? _We'll see about that_, I thought. If she refused to be with me, well…one less girl in the world wasn't going to draw suspicion. She was either going to be mine or no one's.

_-Melanie-_

I felt that my eyes were brighter than I could remember them being. I'd never been this excited, not that I could remember. We had it all planned. From the looks of things, it was going to rain the next night. No one would expect them to sneak out in a downpour. Just one more night. I could live with that. One more night until I was back on Fleet Street. One more night until I was home.

I bade Lianna good night, then shut my door after her and locked it. I'd taken it as a habit since I'd shown up at my old home. No, not my home. Melody's home. Melanie's home was on Fleet Street, above Mrs. Lovett's Pie Shop in Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Parlor.

For the first time since I was attacked, I slept free of nightmares.

_-Sweeney Todd-_

Things had returned to normal since Melanie-or Melody, as the note said; I could only surmise it was her name before losing her memory-had left. But things felt different. I felt a little empty inside. It was much quieter. Even Lovett and Toby didn't chatter as much. A somber mood had taken over the two shops.

I found at night, when I was alone and everything was still, I couldn't help thinking about her. Was she okay? Was she happy? Was she still having nightmares? I knew from the several little conversations we had that she had nightmares often, either of the night she was attacked or of what I myself was doing. And I was realizing that I was feeling something for her stronger than friendship. I felt awful about it, I felt like I was betraying Lucy to be feeling it at all, but I couldn't help it.

I couldn't help it, but I was in love with Melanie.


	11. Chapter 10: Storm

**Author's Note: Told you this one would be longer. And I swear, fangirl's honor, that Sweeney Todd is back in the picture! Now, read on my little reviewers, read on…**

**Chapter 10**

As we'd hoped, it started raining through the day, without hinting at stopping early. Even so, just a downpour during the day would keep less determined women indoors. But luck was on my side, and the rain fell in sheets right into the night. The sound soothed me and helped me to relax. I jumped at every clap of thunder though, despite the calming effect the rain had on me. I waited anxiously in my room as nighttime fell on the little house, waiting for my moment to escape.

There was a tiny tap on my window. "Melody!" I heard Lianna hiss. I hadn't had the heart to tell her I wanted to be called Melanie. I snuck over to the window to see her standing out in the heavy rain, a cloak pulled up over her head. I grabbed my own (we each had plain black, hopefully the easier to blend into the night) and clambered clumsily out of the window. Despite my un-gracefulness, we were on our way in no time.

However, we had hardly set off into the darkness when we heard a dark voice behind us. "And where, pray tell, are you going?" My eyes narrowed in dislike. Brenton.

"Run!" Lianna hissed, but before we could get any speed up, he'd caught up to us. Lianna pushed me forward and turned to confront him.

"Get going! I'll hold him off!" Lianna growled, now grappling with Brenton, who was much larger than her. I could tell she wouldn't be able to hold him off for long.

"Are you nuts?!" I hissed through the storm as lightning flashed.

"Just GO!" Lianna cried through the gale, over the thunder. I bit my lip, then turned and ran for the city, clutching my cloak around me.

Through the pouring, torrential rain, I thought I heard a gunshot.

I stared around at my surroundings helplessly. I was completely lost. I'd never really explored much of London, and the only landmark that would let me know for sure I was on Fleet Street would be the famous Pie Shop, over which was the equally famous Barber Shop. I took off running again, not trusting my surroundings enough to stop for any length of time.

After a few blocks I found I was getting short of breath, and I would have to stop soon. I turned down a random street, praying there'd be somewhere I could stop and take a breath before continuing looking for Fleet Street. I hadn't heard any shouts or footsteps for a while, so I hoped I had lost Brenton. I couldn't help wondering what had happened to Lianna, though. She'd been a good friend. I didn't even know if I'd ever find out what happened.

Lady Luck was with me again; at the far end of the street, a familiar building was just visible through the sheets of rain, a building with an abnormally large window on the second floor, through which was the barber shop I'd been pining for.

But just as I started down the street, I was suddenly slammed against the wall of a building. It didn't matter that we were in view of the street and about a dozen buildings; no one would see us through the storm. My breath quickened in terror as I looked up into the very wet, very angry face of Brenton.

"What did you do with Lianna?" I demanded in a shaky voice. He smirked.

"I didn't bring a gun with me for nothing," he growled menacingly. I whimpered in terror. His hand clenched around my throat.

"How dare you betray me like this?! I do your family a favor by courting you, and this is how you repay me?!" but I knew that anger in his eyes had nothing to do with 'charity' or 'the goodness of his heart' or anything like that. What I saw there was lust, pure lust. He didn't want me for me. He wanted me so he could go to all his fancy rich parties with a pretty little woman on his arm, and show off to his little rich friends and gloat. It had nothing to do with doing my family any favors. However, seeing as I was being strangled slowly, I couldn't voice any of this.

"Well, you little bitch, I'll give you two choices," he snarled, and I felt my feet lift off the ground. I couldn't breathe! My mouth was opened desperately, but no air reached my lungs. He drew a knife. "You can stay with me, as your parents had planned," he drew the knife down my face, and I writhed in the brief pain of it. "Or you can die. Your choice." A tiny cry escaped me as the blade dug into my side, deep enough to scrape against my ribs, but yet still not quite deep enough to kill.

Suddenly, I fell to the ground with a splash, the puddle I landed in stained red from my blood. I gasped for breath, sucking in the air cleaned by the still-raging storm around me. Air had never tasted so good. But I was weak; when I looked down at my side, not only was my dress soaked in my own blood, but so was my arm on that side. The blood was slowing now, but it had taken a lot out of me. The cut on my face stung. I looked up to see what had become of Brenton.

My former suitor was now the one pinned to a wall, by what appeared to be a dark, furious, soaking wet demon wielding something bright silver. It took me a moment to recognize him-I wouldn't have if not for the white streak in his hair-as Sweeney Todd.

I instantly felt my body relax, leaning my back against the wall as I remained in the puddle, hardly noticing how cold the water was. Even when he was looking more furious than I had ever seen him, he made me feel safe.

"Get the hell off this street, and don't let me catch you here again," he hissed. I had a feeling that, had we not been in the middle of the street and he'd had enough hands to get me and his body back to the shop, Sweeney would have killed him there and then. Brenton looked terrified enough to obey, though, as he scampered away into the night. As the barber turned to me, I suddenly found my lap of great interest.

It was very quiet now, the soft falling of rain the only sound in the night. It was a rarity; an uncomfortable silence between the demon barber and I. I swallowed nervously as I stammered out the only thing I could think to say:

"Thank you. I-I'm sorry." I could feel the confusion radiating from him, and I explained. "I didn't want to leave. It wasn't my idea. I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay here…with you." I felt my face turn about five different shades of red as I realized what I had said. I heard a quiet sigh. Or, I thought I did. It was hard to hear such a quiet sound in the torrential rain.

"Can you walk?" he asked, and I could hear the effort behind keeping his voice cold and detached. I frowned. I wasn't sure. I hesitantly used the wall to stand, but my legs were shaky. I tried walking on my own, not wanting to show how much my side-wound really did hurt, but I stumbled and very nearly fell. To my own slight surprise, I felt his hands catch me, steadying me and letting me lean against him for support.

A flash of lightning broke through the rain.

Before I knew it, I found myself back in the barber shop I had been longing for. I hadn't realized how much I missed it until I was back there. By then the blood had stopped pouring out of my wide wound, but it was still oozing out sluggishly. I collapsed weakly into the barber's chair when I was close enough, leaning my head back slightly in exhaustion. I couldn't stop fidgeting nervously when Sweeney left to go find bandages for my wound (the cut on my face was already scabbed over), but I resisted the urge to follow him, though I couldn't hold back a quiet sigh of relief when he returned. And it had nothing to do with getting me to stop bleeding.

He quickly bandaged the wound (I decided that where he learned how was going to be a 'don't ask, don't tell' subject), and though they were a little painful while they were being put on, I knew that they had to be put on tightly. Plus, I was pretty sure if I could handle a corset, I could handle a few bandages. When they were on securely and we were both sure I wasn't going to bleed to death, we fell silent, lost in our own thoughts, with me sitting in the chair, and him staring out of the huge window.

After a while, I broke the silence. "How'd you know I was there?" There was more silence while he pulled himself out of his thoughts.

"I saw you," he muttered. "Through the rain. You are lucky as _hell_ that I can recognize you under a cloak." I smiled slightly. For some reason, that made me happy. I stood up, though it was not without effort, and walked over to him quietly.

"Thanks again. For saving my life. Twice."

He turned to say something, but I don't think either of us realized how close we were to each other. His face was inches from mine. As usual when I was around him, in any proximity, my heart jumped around irregularly. I also don't think either of us anticipated what he did next.

He gently brought his lips to mine, and I felt my body tense as an automatic reaction. My mind associated this with pain. But the logical half of me knew better, and I didn't move an inch, though that little irrational bit of me wanted me to break the kiss and back away. I didn't move. And, though I was fighting my own little internal battle, it didn't feel awkward at all. In fact, it felt very nice. I had never seen him be so gentle. Maybe this was the side of him I had never gotten to see, the one that had been consumed by hatred and revenge.

Then it was over, faster than I would have liked. He turned from me and stared out of the window again, looking slightly angrier than before. Like he was suddenly fighting with himself, like I had been.

Feeling I had bothered him enough for one night, I left to return to the pie shop below.

_-Sweeney Todd-_

Why did I do that? What in the _hell_ possessed me to do that?! I suddenly felt like my skull was cracked in two, though the action had seemed harmless enough at the time. I was stupid and impulsive and didn't know what the hell I was doing. I would be the first to testify that being in a relationship once does _not _make things easier. Especially when to half of my mind, it had felt like betrayal.

The other half wanted me to declare that I loved her, because I did love Melanie. I just didn't know how to say so. I don't think I'd ever felt this confused. Half of me had felt betrayal, but the other half had a question I loathed; _If Lucy's dead, who are you betraying?_

The logical answer was no one at all. But I felt like my heart was suddenly being pulled two different ways. Yes, Lucy was dead, but that didn't mean I didn't love her. But I loved Melanie too. For the life of me, I didn't know what to do. The little voice was right-Lucy was dead and staying faithful wasn't going to bring her back. Legally, I wasn't doing anything wrong. But it felt so wrong, even if in the brief moment I had kissed Melanie, it had felt very, very right.

I didn't know what to do.


End file.
